a butterfly, flapping gently against your ribs, like your caramel eyelashes that beat the air in time like synched metronomes, implanting their miniature butterfly kisses on my cheek as I whisper into your ear.
My room is...
a garden. Filled with Summer musk. The waning sun winnowed by my curtains, green, lamp shades like the bow of a tree.
Your heart is...
a hummingbird, fluttering restlessly. Your breath is the wind, a sighing Summer breeze that sags in the heat, endlessly searching, like my hands, fingers knobby like tree branches, probing your body, scratching against your back like branches scraping at a window.
Your eyes are...
an endless source of light.
My fingers...
endlessly search like snapdragons in a forest. Reaching by instinct to catch the light, never able to tap into the source.
Your heart is...
a prisoner, rapping so against your chest, so much so that it must break free. Your pink skin encases it, heaving with breath, your face flushed with color. A sweet, damp smell permeates the room, and I thirstily drink from it, like a tired dog laps from a bowl.
My heart...
aches after yours. The two beating against each other like two who speak through a wall, but they can never touch. They must speak in their arcane morse code, with their drum beat heard like a hollow thumping across the hills, wordless. Speaking nothing. Speaking everything.
Your eyes are...
the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen in my entire life.
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